


Between the Sinners and the Saints

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dealing With The Media, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know I don’t care what the hell you’ve done," Steve says. “That wasn’t you.”</p><p>“It was.” Bucky makes a small, defeated noise. His head comes down to rest on his hands. “Sometimes I enjoyed it, Steve. That wasn’t HYDRA. That was all me."</p><p>(In which Bucky is put on trial for the Winter Soldier's crimes, Steve pines and many social media references are made.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Sinners and the Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Pining, angst and redemption: my three favourite kinks in one fic. With Bucky and Steve, of course.
> 
> Title by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hamilton, because I am trash ('Wait For It' gave me a lot of Bucky feelings, okay?).
> 
> Note: I'm neither a lawyer nor an expert on the US justice system. Legal handwaving abounds.

Sometimes, Steve has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

He’s got Bucky back.

It’s been a slow process: months of deprogramming and therapy, and longer still before Bucky felt comfortable to speak to people who weren’t Steve. But one day, Bucky had looked up, smiled at Steve, and there he was.

Steve had taken Bucky back to his apartment, cleared the junk out of his second bedroom and offered it to him. Bucky had hesitated, but he’d never been able to say no to Steve, not when it counted. He moved in.

These days, Bucky prefers not to spend time at Avengers Tower if he can help it, but that’s okay with Steve. They both know Bucky needs to keep a low profile right now. The press have been all over the Winter Soldier files ever since J. Jonah Jameson published an article in the _Daily Bugle_ a couple of months ago.

There's one saving grace: nobody seems to have come up sufficient proof to link Bucky to the Winter Soldier.

Not yet, anyway.

***

They're in the kitchen. Bucky is cooking, humming to himself.

Steve is drawing, or trying to. It's not going very well; his mind is elsewhere. He keeps crumpling the pages and tearing them out of his sketchbook.

“Here, taste this,” Bucky says, holding out a spoonful of some delicious-smelling tomato sauce to Steve.

Steve tastes it. It’s good, but he’s focused on the hopeful way Bucky is smiling at him. “It’s nice, Buck,” he says.

Bucky's face lights up. He presses his thumb to the corner of Steve’s lip. “You got a little —”

Bucky’s thumb is warm on his skin. Steve flushes; a spark of want burns low in his belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

The moment passes. Bucky drops his hand, and he isn’t smiling anymore. He looks worried.

Steve turns away to open the cupboard. “I’ll get the spaghetti out, shall I?”

***

Steve knows it can’t last, this borrowed time they’re living on.

But he's always been good at hoping for the best. He keeps on hoping.

***

One night, he wakes up thinking about Bucky’s hands on his skin, and thinks: _oh._

It's familiar in the worst way: wanting his best friend, and keeping quiet about it.

Decades ago, when he and Bucky had shared a tent as soldiers and best friends, Steve had wanted more. He’d never done anything, but sometimes, he’d slipped a hand beneath his sleeping bag, imagining it was Bucky. Steve had pressed a fist against his mouth and listened to Bucky’s shallow breaths on the other side of tent, trying not to make a sound when he came.

He thought he’d forgotten how to want this.

Turns out, he hasn’t.

***

“They’re going to come for me one day, you know,” Bucky says, on an early-morning run with Sam and Steve.

The thought makes Steve’s chest tight; he slows his pace. “I know.”

Sam is panting from the effort of keeping up with them both, but he says, “We’ll deal with that when we come to it. I bet you Pepper’s got a whole strategy in the works. She knows media.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. The thought of competent, no-nonsense Pepper having the situation well in hand comforts him a little.

But then he glances back at Bucky, and his eyes are cast down as he runs, sneakers striking the sidewalk heavily. He looks like a man who’s waiting for his doom.

It’s not right, Steve thinks. Bucky shouldn’t have to live like this, waiting for the earth to go out from under his feet.

***

“How do I look?” Steve asks, frowning. His suit is itchy, riding up at the elbows.

Pepper studied him with a critical eye. “Perfect. Now at least _try_ to smile.”

It’s press conference night at Avengers Tower, otherwise known as one of Steve’s least favourite ways to spend his time. Still, needs must — as Pepper says, the Avengers need all the good PR they can get in the wake of the damage to Sokovia.

(Privately, Steve thinks people should damn well stop complaining about it, with all the lives they saved, but he’d never say it in public.)

“Aw,” Tony says, coming in. He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, looks at their reflections in the mirror. “Don’t you look cute, Cap.”

Easy blusher that he is, Steve goes beet red. He shrugs off Tony’s hand. “I’d rather just wear the Captain America suit, to be honest.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony says. “I’ll do all the talking.”

Steve grins. “You usually do.”

Bucky is spending the night in with his Netflix queue. Steve would feel bad about that, but then he remembers all the unfavourable press coverage — the full-page spreads with headlines like ‘Who Is The Winter Soldier?’ and ‘Masked Assassin Still At Large’ — and his stomach clenches.

It’s better this way. Safer.

***

The press conference starts out smoothly.

Tony is charming the assembled media hounds with his Iron Man stories, Natasha interjecting a few deadpan comments that have everyone howling with laughter. Steve plays his part — solid, dependable Captain America — and has the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. He smiles and tries not to blink too much against the blur of flashbulbs.

And then a reporter leans in and asks, “Captain, what do you say to the reports that you’re living with the masked murderer known as the Winter Soldier?”

Everything goes quiet. Steve’s heart freezes. “What?”

The reporter changes tack. “Is Bucky Barnes the Winter Soldier?” she says. Her eyes are gleaming, and she’s holding the microphone closer, almost in his face.

Steve jerks away, already finding it hard to breathe. His pulse slides into a jagged rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The air is suddenly full of deafening chatter. Pepper shoves to the front and wrestles Steve away, Tony and Natasha following close behind.

“Don’t say a word to any of those reporters,” Pepper mutters in Steve’s ear as they push their way towards the door.

***

“Shouldn’t Bucky be here?” Steve asks. His head hurts; the light in the board room is too bright.

Nick Fury drums his fingers on the table. “I don’t want to inform Barnes right away. Not until we come up with a strategy.”

Steve’s hands are shaking. Natasha slides into the chair next to his, puts her hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and grounding, affection bleeding through the touch.

“We knew this day was coming, Steve,” she says delicately. “Pepper could only put so much misinformation out on the internet before someone put the pieces together.”

Pepper sighs. She flips through the files on her tablet. Steve can see glimpses of a red star on a metal arm, and headlines mentioning Bucky in the same sentence as the Winter Soldier. “It’s not good, Steve. All the major news outlets have picked up on the story. They had a source somewhere in the tower. Probably one of those interns Tony hired for the workshop.” She turns to Tony, her eyes narrowed. “You did do those background checks, right?”

Tony coughs, stares at a spot on the ceiling. “Might not have.”

Pepper grits her teeth.

Steve is struggling to breathe. He concentrates on the weight of Natasha’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky, he’s —” Steve tries to say, but the words catch in his throat. “He’s not ready for this. I thought we had more time.”

“We all did,” Pepper says gently, handing her tablet to Fury so he can look through the files. “I'm not sure if you know, but I’ve been talking to James.” And no, Steve didn’t know; he tries not to let the surprise show on his face. “Honesty’s usually the best policy, but it’s how you frame the truth. We were devising a strategy. He wants to own up to the things he’s done, but he doesn’t deserve to be demonised for them.”

“No,” Natasha says, her eyes tight — because of all people, she understands what it’s like to have your past follow you. “But it might be too late for that, if the world’s already decided.”

“Natasha,” Steve says warningly. He shakes off her hand.

“I’m just saying, Steve.” She turns to him, her face twisted with concern. “We need to be prepared.”

“We’ve got two options,” Fury says, with characteristic bluntness. “You and Barnes can go dark, wait for everyone to hunt you to the ends of the earth. Or we go public with this, get the authorities involved. Barnes offers himself up like a lamb to slaughter. Choice is yours, Cap.”

Steve tenses at Fury’s words; to his mind, Bucky’s sacrificed enough already.

“No,” he says, getting to his feet. “It’s not my choice. It never was. It’s his.”

***

When Steve gets back to the apartment, the lights are off.

Bucky is standing by the largest window, face turned away. He looks calm, relaxed. Not like a man who’s about to have to fight for his life again.

“Bucky,” Steve starts, his voice wet, “I need to tell you something.”

“I know,” comes the quiet reply. “I watched it.”

Steve lets out a slow, shuddering breath; he isn’t far from crying. It’s only been a few months since he got Bucky back, and he'd counted on them having more time.

He can’t lose Bucky. He _can’t._

“Why didn’t you tell me you talked to Pepper?” The words burst out of Steve, and he’s surprised at the anger in his tone.

A sigh, then, from Bucky. He’s still looking away, eyes fixed on the blurry city lights outside the window.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

There’s not much Steve can say to that. “Okay," he says. "I understand. What are we going to do?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. Steve is desperate for him to say something, anything.

“Look, Buck, it’ll be okay,” Steve says, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “We’ll run. Just you and me. Change our names, live off the grid.” He knows how desperate he sounds, but right now, he doesn’t care.

Finally, Bucky turns to look at him. Even in the faint light, Steve can see his eyes are tired.

Bucky laughs darkly. “You can’t run forever."

“What are you saying?” Steve walks to Bucky. He wants to touch him. He doesn’t.

Bucky stares down at his left hand, the metal shiny-bright where it extends from the cuff of his sweatshirt. He flexes the fingers; there’s a soft whir.

“I’m saying I want to give myself up. God, Steve —” Bucky pauses. “It’s been great, these few months. Being here. _You’ve_ been great. But there’s no getting away from what I’ve done. Whether I was in my right mind or not, I still deserve to be punished for it all.”

Steve wants to say _no_ , _you don’t deserve this, any of it,_ but the words don’t come out. He clamps his jaw shut.

Warm fingers curl around Steve’s elbow and squeeze.

It’s a friendly touch, nothing unusual about it, but it’s loaded with everything Bucky isn’t saying to him. Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, and he can see the fear there. It makes anger boil over in his gut. None of this is fair.

How absurd it seems, Bucky being the one comforting him.

“We’ll fight this, Buck,” Steve promises, trying to inject some Captain-America resolve into his tone. “Together.”

Bucky gives him a wan smile.

***

The preliminary hearing passes, and the date is set for the trial to begin.

Pepper handles everything; she finds good lawyers, ones who’ll represent Bucky in the best possible light.

Bucky does everything asked of him, jaw set, a grim expression on his face. He doesn’t seem to enjoy playing the part of the great American war hero, Captain America’s best friend — but then, it’s no lie.

“They’re going to expect you to hide, James,” Pepper says in their kitchen, back from another meeting with Bucky’s legal counsel.

Bucky puts down the orange juice he’s drinking. He looks drained and empty.

Steve aches for him.

“What are you saying?” Bucky says. His eyes narrow. “That I should?”

There’s a smile playing on Pepper’s face. “Completely the opposite,” she explains. “We’re going to blitz them.”

“Pepper?” Steve frowns from where he’s standing at the counter, buttering a piece of toast. “What are you talking about?”

She’s already found Steve’s laptop, and is busily typing. “I’m getting James a Twitter account,” she says briskly.

By the time she leaves, Bucky has thousands of followers. Predictably, there are a flood of mentions, some not very kind, but she tells him not to look at those ones.

Bucky types out his first tweet. 

> **@james_barnes_actual:** Hi there. Guess you’ve all heard a lot about me.

It seems fair enough to Steve. He turns to his own Twitter, Pepper’s advice about using it still ringing in his ears. Like all the Avengers, he's had a Twitter for a while, but he’s never looked at it much — some intern manages the posts.

Scrolling through it, he remarks, “Do I really say all this dumb stuff about freedom?”

Bucky peers over his shoulder, and chuckles. “Wow. You’re something else, Cap.”

Upon hearing Bucky laugh, Steve smiles. It’s nice to see Bucky hasn’t lost his sense of humour, even in the midst of the media circus and his approaching trial.

He angles his phone to snap a picture of himself and Bucky. Quickly, he Googles a photo of them from the war, posts the two images together in a tweet:

> **@captainamerica** : My best friend, then and now.

There’s a soft smile on Bucky’s face as he reads the tweet. He isn’t the only one who likes it. A minute later, Steve’s phone is buzzing with replies.

> **@ironman: RT @captainamerica** : My best friend, then and now. <\- I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING I CAN’T EVEN THEY’RE PRECIOUS.

"Tony, you jerk," Steve mutters.

Bucky snorts, and tweets back.

> **@james_barnes_actual:** **@ironman**  Jealous, Stark?

Surprisingly, the response is overwhelming positive. The Twittersphere is flooded with mentions defending Bucky, and people arguing about why a clearly innocent man is going to trial. The words ‘precious’ and ‘adorable’ come up a lot.

The next day in the board room, Fury asks, “Do I want to know why _#preciouscinnamonrollassassin_ is trending on Twitter?”

Natasha bites back a laugh. She looks over at Bucky and quirks an eyebrow.

Bucky shrugs, and says, “It’s good PR."

Across the table, Pepper grins. She holds up her tablet to show them the latest headline from the _Daily Bugle_ : ‘Bucky Barnes: Villain or Victim?’

“See?" she says. "If we can get Jameson on our side, we’ve got a chance.”

“That fucker,” Steve mutters, and everyone turns to look at him.

He still doesn’t like that damn hack, even if Jameson is apparently on Bucky’s side now.

***

The trial begins.

Fragments of the Winter Soldier’s past are plucked from the shadows and laid bare for all to see. Through it all, Bucky sits there, bolt upright, eyes straight ahead. He doesn’t flinch, not for a second.

Steve has never been prouder of Bucky. He’s also never been more scared for him.

***

He knows he shouldn’t, but Steve can’t help obsessively checking their social media profiles.

The tide seems to be turning in Bucky’s favour. As many articles as there are condemning Bucky for his crimes, there are far more clamouring for his release. A ‘Free Bucky Barnes’ campaign has already amassed thousands of dollars, and there have been marches and rallies.

One afternoon, Steve comes back to find Bucky and Natasha engrossed in Rachel Maddow. He joins them on the couch, idly watching in between checking his phone.

They're discussing the Winter Soldier case on the show; an expert is currently outlining the impact of brainwashing and torture. Frankly, Steve is surprised Bucky wants to watch this, but he seems to be handling it okay.

Steve's phone buzzes with a tweet: it's Clint.

> **@hawkeyebarton:** My boy, the Avenger. Five months old, and already fighting for justice.

It’s accompanied by a picture of little Nathaniel. Steve smiles. Then he sees the slogan on the baby’s t-shirt: Free Bucky Barnes.

He passes the phone to Bucky so he can see. “Cute,” Bucky says. He turns back to the TV.

Natasha grabs the phone out of Bucky’s hand. “You’ve got a good one in your corner there, Barnes,” she says.

Bucky cracks a smile. He doesn’t look at Steve.

***

A few weeks into the trial, Steve has another, worse dream.

Bucky is on his way to be executed, hands cuffed behind his back, wearing a correctional uniform. Marching to his death.

Steve wakes up gasping, rivulets of sweat pouring down his back.

There’s a tap at the door. He sits up.

“Steve?” Bucky's voice is quiet.

“Yeah.”

The door opens.

“Sorry for waking you,” Steve mumbles, as Bucky moves to the bed and tucks his body against him.

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs. His flesh hand presses to Steve’s back, fingertips tracing his spine soothingly. “I wasn’t asleep anyway.”

Steve draws his knees up to his chest, tilts his head so it’s resting on Bucky’s chest. He lets Bucky hold him.

Much later, they fall asleep, carelessly wrapped around each other.

Steve wakes to Bucky drooling on the back of his neck. His breath is hot; it kindles an old, burning need inside Steve, the one he thought he’d forgotten about.

He slips out of bed before Bucky’s awake, hard and ashamed. By the time Bucky comes into the kitchen, Steve is on his second cup of coffee and trying to pretend like everything’s normal.

“Morning,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles brightly. “Court today?”

“Yeah.” Bucky grimaces. He pours a cup of coffee and drinks it in silence, staring into the distance.

Steve watches him, wishing he could carry this for Bucky, that he could save him from all this pain.

The next night, Bucky’s back in his own room. They don’t talk about it again.

***

The worst set of pictures surface three days later: a family arranged on a bed, bodies full of bullet holes. A five-year-old boy is among the dead.

Pepper assures Steve the photographs will be kept out of the press, but it doesn’t reassure him, not one bit.

He watches Bucky’s face blanch as a surviving family member recounts the horrific murder. Picture after picture is shown to the court, and Bucky’s face gets paler and paler.

When the judge calls for a recess, Bucky is on his feet straight away, shrugging off his legal counsel.

Steve fights his way through the crowds to go after him. On a hunch, he tries the bathroom first. Sure enough, there are sounds of retching coming from the stall at the end.

“Buck?”

“I’m here,” is the faint reply. “You really gonna listen to me puke my guts out?”

“I’ve heard worse.”

A few more choked gasps. The toilet flushes.

Steve goes to sit on the floor outside Bucky’s stall. Through the gap, he can see Bucky’s knees on the floor.

“You still there, Steve?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah.”

Bucky is white and shaking when he comes out of the stall. He rinses his mouth, comes to sit next to Steve on the cold tile.

He isn’t looking at Steve when he says, “You think that was bad? The things I’ve done — you still don’t know the half of it.”

“I don’t need to know,” Steve says. He waves a hand dismissively. “You know I don’t care what the hell you’ve done. That wasn’t you.”

“It was.” Bucky makes a small, defeated noise. His head comes down to rest on his hands. “Sometimes I _enjoyed_ it, Steve. That wasn’t HYDRA. That was all me. I remember the way I used to feel, up on a perch, picking off targets with my rifle. The satisfaction of a perfect kill. I had that even before I fell off the train.”

Steve sucks in a shaky breath. When it comes down to it, he knows Bucky did it all for him. He’d become that cold-blooded killer for Steve, because it was the only way he could survive in a world that had already broken him.

After Zola’s torture in the factory, Bucky could have gone home, left the war behind. Instead, he’d fought for Steve, killed for him. Died for him.

Steve swallows past the lump in his throat. He reaches for Bucky’s hand, uncurls his fingers so their palms are touching. “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” he says.

“Doesn’t it?” Bucky’s voice is hollow.

***

Here’s the thing: Bucky’s tired of fighting.

Steve can see it in his eyes. He knows what it costs  Bucky every time he scrolls through his Twitter, decides with Pepper what pictures should go on his Instagram. Lets everyone pry into his private life, _their_ life, all to keep up his public image.

He remembers the war, how Bucky used to grumble about doing the Captain America reels with him. The way he used to tell Bucky jokes in between takes to set him at ease. Once, they’d been laughing so much they still weren’t ready when the camera turned back on.

In the Smithsonian, Steve had watched the footage, the crushing weight of loss pressing down on his chest.

He hadn’t even known Bucky was alive, then. It seems like a lifetime ago.

***

The tensest moment comes when Tony is called to the stand.

Steve doesn’t doubt it’s been difficult for him, considering the Winter Soldier’s involvement in his parents’ deaths, but he knows that Tony will do the right thing in the end. At least he hopes he will.

Tony leans forward in his chair. “If you’re going to ask me about the deaths of my parents, I have nothing to say.” The room goes silent. “If you ask me what I have to say about James Barnes as the Winter Soldier, I’m not going to answer. An innocent man is on trial here.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from around the courtroom.

Tony carries on as if he hasn’t noticed. “Some of you might remember that little incident in Afganistan a few years back." He pauses. "No? Well, I was held prisoner by terrorists. It was the single most terrifying experience of my life, and let me tell you, I've had quite a few of those."

There's laughter from the crowd. "The point is," Tony continues, “what I experienced doesn't even  _touch_ the hell this man lived for almost seventy years. I’m not interested in what he’s done. The past is the past. There’s a question we need to ask ourselves, and —”

“Get to the point, Mr Stark,” the judge interrupts.

"I'm getting there." Tony says, glaring at her. "The question we need to ask ourselves “is not ‘who is the Winter Soldier?’, but ‘who is James Barnes?’ The answer is: a good man.” His gaze sweeps around the courtroom.

The audience erupts into chatter; the judge has to bang her gavel to quiet them.

The prosecution indicate they have no further questions for Tony Stark.

Bucky looks stunned.

Natasha is sitting next to Steve; she clutches his hand. He blinks back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

***

The jury’s verdict, when it comes is unanimous: Bucky is acquitted, all charges dropped.

Steve is in a daze; he can hardly believe it. On the steps of the courthouse, a sea of reporters clamour for the first interview with Captain America, best friend of Bucky Barnes.

One asks, “Is the Winter Soldier going to become an Avenger?”

“That’s up to _Sergeant Barnes_ ,” Steve says acidly, correcting the name. “I think he’s served his country long enough. It’s his decision.”

The crowd surges towards Steve, and he turns to see Bucky coming out of the revolving doors, flanked by his lawyers and Pepper. He’s smiling tentatively.

“Sergeant Barnes!”

“Have you got a quote for us?”

“Sergeant Barnes, over here!”

Steve sees Bucky look at Pepper. She nods.

“Um,” Bucky says nervously, reaching up a hand to flick his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t have much to say, apart from that I’m eternally grateful. I’ve got my life back, but I know that others haven’t. I know what’s been taken from them, from their families, and I can’t ever undo those things.” He pauses, and something shifts in his face. He looks determined.

“You know what? I don’t want to talk about myself anymore. I was one man used as a pawn, but there are many people in the world today who are like me. People who are victims of injustice and torture, prisoners of war, child soldiers, anyone forced to commit atrocities against their will. I want to say to all those people: you’re not alone. There is a way back.”

Bucky’s eyes are bluer than Steve's ever seen them, full of light and hope.

Steve feels something crack inside his chest. In this moment, he knows he’d trade every good thing he’s ever had in his life, just to see Bucky like this. Brave, like he’s always been (braver than Steve). Fierce. Full of conviction.

Before he can stop himself, he's seizing Bucky by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. He’s got no idea what he’s going to do. And then he does.

He kisses Bucky. Their lips touch, and desire unfurls in Steve’s body, a rising warmth that prickles on his skin. Bucky makes a faint noise of surprise, but doesn’t pull back immediately. His mouth opens a little, and Steve feels the heat of Bucky’s tongue before they snap apart like repelling magnets.

Click. Click. Flash.

Spots swim in front of Steve’s eyes as endless pictures are taken — he hopes he doesn’t look too much like a slack-jawed idiot.

He’s afraid to look at Bucky.

***

Bucky is subdued and quiet in the penthouse suite at Avengers Tower.

Tony passes around the champagne.

“Truly, Barnes, you are a great warrior,” Thor says to Bucky. “It is not about just knowing how to fight, but when to stand up for others. You did that today.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says awkwardly, ducking his head.

Pepper comes over, champagne flute in hand. “I’ve trained you boys well. That was a brilliant PR strategy, Steve. The kiss.”

“Uh, thanks,” Steve says, red rising up his face already.

Clint and Natasha are giggling, engrossed in her phone. Clint looks up and says, “Listen to this, Cap. _#Stucky_ is trending on Twitter. Everyone’s talking about the epic romance between Captain America and Bucky Barnes.”

Tony mutters something to JARVIS, and a moment later, a photograph’s projected on the wall, blown up big enough that they can all see.

It’s a Bucky Bear with its Captain America counterpart, their faces pressed together, superimposed on the courthouse background.

The others laugh. Steve cringes.

Bucky smiles, very forced. “We like to keep you guys on your toes,” he says, clearing his throat. “Besides, it’ll give the internet something to talk about for the next year.”

Steve stares at him, a hard knot tightening in his stomach.

***

Later, they go back to the apartment. Bucky heads straight for the shower. He stays in there a long time.

Steve sits on the couch, frozen still, hands knotted in the fleecy throw that Sam had given him as a housewarming gift. Waiting.

Bucky finally comes out, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. His wet hair is curling behind his ears.

“Bucky, I —” Steve can’t say it. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky looks at him for a long minute. Then he says, “It’s okay, Steve. Don’t worry about it.”

He settles down on the couch beside Steve, puts on an episode of The West Wing. Bucky reaches for the throw to tug it over both of them, and they watch together in companionable silence.

Steve hopes Bucky can’t see how much his hands are trembling under the blanket.

***

Things go back to normal.

Steve goes for runs with Bucky. They watch TV, bicker over the cooking and the housework.

Bucky doesn’t join the Avengers.

They both try and ignore the endless dissection of their relationship on social media, but after all the media coverage the trial attracted, it’s hard to avoid it.

Teenage girls hide in bushes and take photos of Steve and Bucky when they’re out grocery shopping, post them on tumblr with tags like _#super-soldier boyfriends_ and _#otp: there is a way back_. There are articles on Buzzfeed and Hypable entitled ‘Twenty Times Steve And Bucky Broke Our Hearts’ and ‘Ten Times Steve Rogers Was Too Goddamn Adorable For Words’.

Steve sighs inwardly every time one of their friends sends him another article.

***

When Steve first came out of the ice, he'd felt so lonely some nights he thought he'd do something stupid.

So he went out a few times, to places where he could find anonymous strangers who wouldn't care about his alter ego. There were a few women (he didn't do a great job, probably, what with only having managed a bit of awkward fooling around on his USO tour, but they were nice, and he enjoyed it) and a couple of men, just to try it out (that was pretty decent, too, once he managed to get over the differences in how everything worked).

He'd tried to be gentlemanly about it, making each of his overnight guests breakfast in the morning, but in the end, it just made him feel empty when they left. The sex was good, for the most part — a couple of times,  _really_ good — but it wasn't the sort of connection he craved.

Since Bucky's return, there's been no-one; it didn't seem right (and he'd probably just end up thinking about doing those things with Bucky, which makes his chest hurt from wanting).

The truth is, Steve can’t get the kiss out of his mind. The nightmares have faded, but instead, his nights are filled with heated, sweaty dreams: Bucky’s mouth on his mouth, Bucky's skin under his hands.

Steve knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t stop. He slips a hand into his boxers and strokes himself to the rhythm of his pounding heart, just like he used to all those years ago. He thinks about Bucky, in the next bedroom over. Near, and yet so far.

He wants. He wants — everything, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

***

“Come on, Rogers,” Sam says while they’re queuing up at the smoothie truck. “Crack a smile, won’t ya?”

Steve hastily arranges his features into a grin. “Sorry. Rough week.”

It's no lie. Not two days ago, Dr Doom had showed up with a new mystical weapon and decided to lay waste to a whole industrial area of New York. There’d been plenty to do in the aftermath, and like the rest of the Avengers, Steve and Sam are pretty exhausted (Natasha passed on their invitation to hang out in favour of a date with her bed).

Sam shakes his head. “Tell me about it.”

They step forward. Sam pays for two blueberry protein boosts, and passes one of the plastic cups to Steve.

“How’s Barnes? Is he ever gonna join us in our Avenging?” Sam is watching Steve’s expression closely.

Steve slurps at his smoothie; it's sharp with wheatgrass. “Eugh.” He makes a face. “Why do you always get them to put this crap in?”

Sam gives him a look. “Y’know, for someone who claims he’s terrible at dealing with the media, you’re real good at avoiding questions, Rogers.”

“Bucky’s fine," Steve insists. "He’s doing a lot of baking.”

Sam laughs around the straw in his mouth. “Baking," he says. "Right. That’s totally the reason why you’re walking around looking like a kicked puppy.”

There are copies of the _Daily Bugle_ at a nearby newsstand. Steve reads today's headline: ‘Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes: A Love Story Seventy Years In The Making.'

Well, that’s just the limit, he thinks. Even J. Jonah Jameson is running stories about their non-existent romance.

He pays for a copy of the _New York Times_ ; its front-page story is about unrest in the Middle East, and Steve could do with reading about something other than himself for a change.

Now Sam is looking at the _Bugle._ His eyes move to Steve, and he says, “Oh. Now I get it.”

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles. His cheeks are burning.

***

On an early-morning run, Steve and Bucky round the corner of a building and nearly run smack bang into a little girl.

“Sorry!” Steve says hastily, stopping. And then he looks at her. She’s about seven, and carrying a Cap and Bucky backpack, with the shield and Bucky’s wings embroidered on it (there’s been a spike in sales since the verdict, according to Pepper).

Her face lights up with realisation. She twists around, eyes a woman standing a few feet back. “Mom, look! It’s Captain America and Bucky!”

The mother nods and smiles at them, but stays back, letting her daughter have the moment to herself.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Juanita.” She sticks out her small hand, and Steve and Bucky take turns shaking it. They can’t help but smile. “I wanted to see you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. He bends down so he’s on Juanita’s level.

She leans in and speaks quietly. “I’m sorry those bad people hurt you. I know it wasn’t your fault. Cap is lucky to have a friend like you. You’re brave, and you’re my hero.” Then she throws her skinny arms around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky looks taken aback, but he returns the hug, pats at her back gingerly with his metal fingers.

Steve exchanges a look with Juanita’s mother. She gives him a ‘what can you do’ smile.

A moment later, their new friend skips off with a cheerful, “See you later, Bucky.”

“She didn’t even talk to me,” Steve says, in mock indignation. He hears a sniff at his side, and turns to see.

Bucky is crying, tears streaming from his eyes. They have to stand there for a few moments while he gets a grip on himself.

The little girl’s right, Steve thinks. Bucky is the bravest person he’s ever known. Not the Sergeant Barnes from the history books, but the living, breathing Bucky who never stopped fighting for Steve Rogers.

The thought hits Steve like a ton of bricks: all along, Bucky's been the one saving him.

Bucky breaks the silence. “Come on then, Rogers. Let’s see if I can beat you,” he says, wiping his eyes.

“Not a chance, Barnes.” Steve grins at Bucky, but his heart isn't in it. He feels like he could cry, too.

They go back to pounding the sidewalk.

***

When they get back to the apartment, Steve lets Bucky shower first.

In the kitchen, he pours a glass of orange juice and drinks it slowly, enjoying its cool sweetness. He tries not to think about Bucky standing on a New York sidewalk, healing tears pouring down his cheeks; about kissing him while flashbulbs went off in their faces.

Bucky exits the bathroom in fresh clothes and goes straight to his room. Steve understands. If Bucky wants time alone, he won’t begrudge him that.

He takes the opportunity to have a long shower, luxuriating in the hot water’s cascade over his sore muscles.

After, Steve walks out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, and stops. Bucky is right there, waiting for him. He’s looking at him, his eyes flickering over Steve’s chest where beads of water are rolling down it.

Steve shifts uncomfortably; his towel suddenly seems a hell of a lot tighter than it was before.

“Why did you kiss me?” Bucky asks softly. It’s the question Steve’s been waiting for all these weeks.

“I don’t —”

“Steve, I swear to God, if you lie to me now, I’m gonna kick your ass.” Bucky squares his shoulders and steps barefoot into Steve’s space. He’s so close that Steve can smell the orange juice and toothpaste on his breath.

Bucky’s brushed his teeth. Steve’s throat tightens; he tries not to think about what that means.

“I kissed you because I’ve always wanted to,” he admits, meeting Bucky’s gaze head-on. “I kissed you because you’re _you._ I kissed you because you’re the bravest person I’ve ever known. I kissed you because I want you, Bucky. Every part of you, good or bad. I don’t care.”

Steve sets his jaw. He doesn’t drop his gaze; for once, he’s trying to be brave, too.

Bucky blinks, stunned. “Good save, Rogers,” he says.

He wraps his flesh-and-blood hand around the back of Steve’s neck and kisses him.

***

Bucky takes Steve’s shoulders and walks him back into his bedroom.

It smells unaired, like sleep and sweat. Morning light is visible through half-drawn curtains.

On the way, Steve’s towel drops to the floor. It’s vaguely embarrassing, being naked and obviously hard when Bucky still has clothes on, but he’s too far gone to care. Every part of him aches for Bucky. He wants it all.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky breathes. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he runs his palms over Steve’s biceps.

Steve feels cracked open under Bucky’s hungry gaze, his warm touch. All the long-suppressed affection hidden in his chest is pouring out, threatening to overwhelm him.

He watches as Bucky kicks off his pants, tugs his shirt over his head.

“Come here,” Steve says, reaching for him.

They end up on the bed, and Steve wastes no time in covering Bucky’s body with his own.

“I need you, Steve,” Bucky says, voice rough. His arms raise up to wrap around Steve’s back, pull him closer.

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve murmurs, biting at the shell of Bucky’s ear. “Tell me.”

“I — Bucky can’t get the words out, at first. “Just touch me," he finally says.

“Yeah?” Steve moves to press a kiss to the soft skin on the inside of Bucky’s thigh. He wants to worship him, body and soul, but he needs this to be what Bucky wants. He’ll give him anything. Everything. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Bucky’s voice is faint.

“You’ve gotta be more specific than that.” Steve smiles and lays a kiss on Bucky’s chest. On his stomach. On his hip, where the skin stretches tight over bone. “Come on. Tell me what you want.” He strokes a hand down Bucky’s side.

Bucky’s silent for a moment, then he says, “I want you inside me.”

Steve nods; his breathing falters a little. He kisses down Bucky’s body, gets his legs over his shoulders. “Can I —” Steve says.

And Bucky's going a little red now, but he nods. He presses the heel of his hand into his face, shuddering though Steve hasn’t even touched him yet.

“Relax,” Steve murmurs. He spreads Bucky open with his thumbs and licks into him. Bucky whines, his eyes closing.

“Okay?” Steve says, pausing. The strangled exclamation Bucky makes is more than enough affirmation for him. He lowers his head again, keeps licking at Bucky, soft and fluttering.

“And now?” Steve asks, his voice unsteady.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says breathlessly. “You gonna fuck me or what?”

Hot need twists low in Steve’s belly. Bucky's wet and open now from his attentions, so he slides up his body, presses a soft kiss to his navel that makes him squirm.

“Just try and stop me,” he says, and Bucky gives him a lopsided grin.

He lets Steve palm his dick, tease him a little before saying, “Enough, Steve. Get inside me now.”

Fumbling, Steve reaches for the lube in the bedside drawer (a joke gift from Sam and Natasha; he'll have to thank them later) and slicks up his cock. Bucky watches him the whole time with hooded eyes; it makes Steve tremble.

He lines himself up with his hand and pushes in slowly, listening to the hitch in Bucky’s breathing, watching the way his mouth falls open. Bucky’s mouth is red and wet; he’s beautiful like this.

“Oh my God,” Steve gasps, now fully seated inside Bucky. He can feel him, tight heat and friction. “You feel good, Bucky.” He’s babbling now. “You feel so good, please can I —”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. “Come on, then,” he says, hoarse.

Tentatively, Steve starts to move, steadying himself with one hand on Bucky’s hip. Bucky pushes up at him, wordlessly begging for more.  Steve gives it to him: dragging, deep thrusts that draw soft moans from Bucky’s throat.

Bucky lifts his head, says, “Steve, I need —” and Steve bends down to meet him in a kiss.

They take their time, moving together at an easy pace. It feels like home, like everything Steve has ever wanted.

He comes with his mouth pressed to Bucky’s collarbone, trembling.

“Steve,” Bucky says, brushing Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Jesus, you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.” Bucky kisses him fiercely, tugs Steve's fingers away from his hip and brings them up to wrap around his cock.

Though he’s only half-hard now, Steve keeps thrusting, slow and lazy. He strokes Bucky firm and sure until he comes, white streaks painting his stomach and Steve’s chest.

***

Steve is sprawled naked on the bed. His head is resting in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Why the hell weren’t we doing this a long time ago?” Bucky says.

“Well, you died, for one,” Steve points out, his words muffled by warm, sweaty skin.

Bucky laughs, joyful and easy; it vibrates through Steve, makes his heart feel light, soaring.

“Good point," Bucky says. He snuggles closer to Steve. "Think we’ve gotta make up for lost time.”

“About seventy years, give or take,” Steve says. “That’s a lot of making up to do.” The thought makes his skin tingle — if this is anything to go by, he probably isn’t going to be letting Bucky out of bed for the rest of the day.

“You know,” Bucky says conversationally, leaning in to kiss Steve, “I think I’m gonna join the Avengers.”

Steve grins against Bucky's mouth. “Want me to call Fury now?”

“Don’t you dare.” Bucky growls. “We’ve got better things to do right now.”

And yeah, they do, but Steve can’t resist teasing Bucky when he has the chance.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table and snaps a picture of Bucky from the waist up. It comes out great; Bucky looks _luminous,_  dark hair sticking up all over, a pearly sheen of sweat glinting on his skin.

Steve adds the photo to a tweet, only half-serious.

> **@captainamerica:** My best guy, all fucked-out. **@james_barnes_actual**

Bucky reads it over his shoulder and laughs. Steve deletes the tweet before he can accidentally send it. He thinks he’s made his point when Bucky starts biting at his ear, clearly trying to redirect his attention.

Steve puts down his phone. He can’t stop the slow smile growing on his face. “Fine. We’ll call Fury later.”

He barely gets the words out before Bucky’s shoving him back onto the mattress, kissing him.

They’ve definitely got better things to do.

**Author's Note:**

> *flails* I just have a lot of feelings.
> 
> Come and join me in the Steve/Bucky craziness on [tumblr](http://glitteratiglue.tumblr.com).


End file.
